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🕑 Added 2025-08-11 17:02:05 +0000 UTCChapter 141: The Freak of Talent – Inui Sadaharu
*"Inui doesn’t play Data Tennis—though the effect is similar. His style is far more troublesome. You could call it... ‘Psychological Prediction’."*
Psychological Prediction?
The team’s eyes locked onto Yoru, unfamiliar with the term.
Yoru patiently explained: "Ever heard of psychological profiling? It’s analyzing someone’s behavior to deduce their mental state, personality, environment, profession, upbringing, etc."
"Psychological Prediction flips that. It uses personality, habits, and all other factors to anticipate someone’s actions."
"Inui must’ve collected vast amounts of data to build a psychological profile of QP, predicting his behavioral patterns. This kind of mental trap is way harder to counter than Data Tennis."
While Data Tennis also involves prediction, it mostly relies on return habits.
Inui’s pure psychological approach was far more insidious—changing mental patterns is harder than breaking physical habits.
"This skill is pure talent."
Yoru sighed.
As the Nationals progressed, more and more freaks of talent were emerging.
Like Inui’s innate ability—*[Battle Master]*.
[Battle Master]: Possesses unique insight into real-time combat adaptations, with effectiveness scaling over match duration.
At first glance, it seemed passive.
But paired with Weakness Insight and Psychological Prediction, it allowed Inui to lock down QP’s actions mid-match.
The Seigaku team erupted in shock.
"Wait, so if every move is predicted, doesn’t that mean QP’s doomed?" Kaedechi blurted.
"Prediction ≠ Guaranteed Return."
"You’re all underestimating QP."
Yoru shook his head.
In the original series, Oni Juujirou once said:
"Inui’s strength lies in his comprehension—he controls the rhythm of every match, a masterful conductor."
To achieve that, mental manipulation was key. Otherwise, how could he force opponents to dance to his tune?
BAM!
Inui scores! 30-0!
...
BAM!
Inui scores! 40-0!
...
BAM!
Inui takes the game! 1-0!
Within minutes, Inui secured the first break.
Kaedechi’s jaw dropped. "H-How?! QP lost his serve first game?!"
Yamato frowned. "Why isn’t QP using that mode?"
"Because he doesn’t want to."
"…"
A perfectly logical answer—yet it felt off.
Yoru smirked. "Look at QP’s expression."
The team turned.
His face was still ice-cold, but...
His brow had relaxed slightly. Almost like he was... enjoying himself.
"I’ve never seen QP make that face before," Kawasaki whispered.
"Wrong!" Kiriya interjected. "I’ve seen it—during his practice matches against the Captain!"
Yoru crossed his arms. "You think QP’s true strength is his Experience Mode?"
"No. His real power is extracting imperfection from every attack, analyzing it, then refining his own playstyle toward absolute perfection. Glorious Experience is just a step in that evolution."
Yamato blinked. "So… like Ralph?"
"Similar in form, but Ralph adapts his playstyle to fit his strengths, maximizing performance—even overperforming."
*"QP chases perfect form—whether it suits him or not. If it doesn’t, he forces himself to adapt. They’re fundamentally different."*
BAM!
QP scores! 1-1!
In the time it took to explain, QP had already decoded Inui’s psychological trap—refining his mental defenses to perfection.
Two games.
That’s all it took for sweat to bead on Inui’s forehead, his eyes widening at QP.
"What kind of monster...?"
Never before had he encountered someone who could self-correct mid-match against psychological warfare.
Worse—QP’s playstyle had no exploitable flaws.
Most players mold their style to their strengths.
This freak molded himself to an idealized, flawless style.
BAM!
QP scores! 2-1!
...
BAM!
QP scores! 3-1!
...
*"First time seeing Inui like this… and it’s not an act."*
From Mayumizaka’s bench, Fuji frowned.
Inui loved theatrics, but this was genuine tension.
"Trust him," Shiraishi muttered, eyes locked on the match.
Even after years of friendship, Inui’s full capabilities remained a mystery.
Playing against him felt wrong—like opponents unknowingly surrendered points, puppeteered by an invisible hand.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
On court, the rally intensified—
No.
Inui was on the defensive, scrambling to set up ‘deceleration zones’ while QP dominated.
Yet despite the pressure, Inui kept stealing points in bizarre ways.
QP was stronger.
But the rhythm belonged to Inui.
BAM!
Inui scores! 3-4!
...
BAM!
QP scores! 4-2!
...
BAM!
Inui scores! 4-4!
...
"What the hell?! QP’s dominating, so why is Inui catching up?!"
"I wanted to ask earlier but didn’t wanna sound dumb!" Yamato and Kiriya groaned.
Yoru’s voice cut through the confusion:
*"Rhythm control."*
Tennis rhythm manifests in serve motion, footwork, swing tempo, and strategy.
Through subtle cues—stance shifts, return angles—Inui had hijacked QP’s tempo, quietly pilfering points.
Every skill Inui wielded served his [Battle Master].
And it was terrifying.
Even in the original timeline, Inui never had a true on-screen match.
After seeing his stats, Yoru had rated him highly—and still underestimated him.
QP had become a puppet on strings.
"But… QP isn’t one to stay controlled."
Chapter 142: Inui's Defeat; Yoru Takes the Court
Game 9 – QP’s Serve
The ball, previously bouncing rhythmically against the court, was suddenly caught mid-air by QP. He lifted his gaze toward his opponent.
"Your psychological tempo… You’re an exceptional strategist. It’s been a while since I faced someone like you."
His icy tone made Inui tighten his grip on his racket.
He hadn’t expected QP to notice.
Normally, once a rhythm shift was detected, the tactic became useless.
But for Inui—
With his "Battle Master" talent, the longer he controlled the tempo, the harder it became for his opponent to break free.
When Inui didn’t respond, QP continued calmly, "I used to be like you—studying strategies to overcome opponents I couldn’t beat with raw strength. But then I realized something..."
A pause. His frigid eyes locked onto Inui, sending a chill down the latter’s spine.
"Strategy is meaningless against an overwhelming power gap."
BOOM—!
A dark aura erupted around QP, the temperature on the court plummeting.
"This feeling—!"
Inui’s expression shifted.
THWACK! THUD!
Two sharp sounds echoed across the court.
QP had already completed his serve and was walking to the opposite service box.
On the other side, Inui stood frozen, racket trembling in his hand.
He turned slowly—only to see the ball rolling against the back fence.
"Only two sounds…?"
Inui exhaled sharply, his gaze hardening. "The impact and the first bounce merged into one."
"QP scores! 15-0!"
The umpire announced the point—though even he hadn’t seen the ball. The fresh black mark on Inui’s court was proof enough. No need for Hawk-Eye.
"WHAAAA—?!"
The crowd erupted.
"When did he even serve?!"
"I only noticed the ball after the call!"
"That speed is insane!"
QP paused, turning to the umpire. "Control the crowd. I can’t play in this noise."
A brief announcement later, silence fell.
QP served again—same result.
This time, the two sounds were even closer together. Faster.
Inui tried predicting the trajectory using psychological cues, but his swing met only air.
"QP scores! 30-0!"
Four serves. Four points.
Inui couldn’t return a single one.
No tricks, no special techniques—just pure, unanswerable fundamentals.
The black marks on the court weren’t just from speed. The power behind each shot was monstrous. Even if he could react, returning it was another matter.
Data didn’t lie: QP’s strength far surpassed his physique.
"Incredible…"
Shiraishi exhaled sharply from the sidelines.
Even with his superhuman reflexes, he could barely track the ball’s afterimage—let alone return it.
Seeing a blur didn’t mean his body could move fast enough.
Only by pushing his senses to the limit could he even attempt to counter QP’s speed.
Seigaku’s Bench
Yoru smirked. "Wrap it up. Kaidō, Imashi—go warm up."
By stats and performance, Inui stood no chance against QP in this state.
Truthfully, QP could’ve ended the match earlier. He’d prolonged it to refine his "Perfect Tennis" through rhythm manipulation.
Otherwise, Inui wouldn’t have scored at all.
With Yamato’s buffs, QP had crossed from 9 to 10 stars—nearly a two-rank gap.
How could Inui win?
"Yes, Captain!"
The two nodded, stripping off their jackets to warm up.
QP noticed and spoke flatly, "My captain is signaling me. This was a good match. Thank you."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Four returns. Four instant points.
Inui couldn’t react.
QP’s counters weren’t as fast as his serves—but they were deadlier, leaving even less time to respond.
Final score: 6-4. QP wins.
"I lost…?"
Inui slumped, drenched in sweat, gasping for air—genuinely exhausted for the first time.
The Miyako team fell silent.
This was their first time seeing Inui lose—and his first time looking this defeated.
Normally, his "struggles" were just acting.
Today? Total domination. His unbeaten streak—shattered.
"Handshake."
QP extended his hand at the net.
Inui forced himself up, gripping his racket for support. "You’re even stronger than I thought. Well fought."
A nod. QP walked off.
Seigaku’s Side
QP removed his jacket, revealing a sweat-soaked shirt.
Yoru chuckled. "Not as easy as it looked, huh?"
"He was strong."
QP didn’t downplay it.
Though the ending was one-sided, Inui had pressured him more than anyone since Oni Juujirou and Ralph.
"WE DID IT!!"
"3-0! WE’RE IN THE FINALS!"
"HISTORY MADE!"
The crowd—especially the Seigaku supporters—erupted in cheers.
For the first time in school history, they’d reached the national finals. Every step from here would be legendary.
Ryūzaki Sumire grinned. "Don’t celebrate yet. Two matches left!"
(Though internally, she was thrilled. If they won it all before her retirement, she’d have no regrets.)
Doubles 1 began.
Just like Doubles 2, the match was prearranged—Seigaku deliberately conceded games.
Final score: 6-2.
"WE DIDN’T GET SHUT OUT!"
"MIRACLE!"
The Miyako pair celebrated their "victory" so enthusiastically that Kaidō and Imashi wondered if they were the ones who’d lost.
Total match score: 4-0.
Inui sighed, watching the tally.
He’d told himself winning didn’t matter—but this level of defeat stung.
Then a murmur spread through the crowd:
"Yoru Echizen is entering the court!"
Chapter 143: Facing Tanegashima—The Ultimate Punching Bag
"Here it comes—the ultimate showdown between the Kanto and Kansai champions!"
"Damn, you’re a genius. That one line just raised the hype to another level."
"Shuuji Tanegashima, captain of Maizono Academy, possesses incredible return skills. He’s a long-renowned powerhouse in Kansai."
...
Before the match even began, the stadium buzzed with chatter.
Many fans who closely followed the national tournament had been eagerly awaiting this match, curious to see who would come out on top.
Even Inui was intrigued—could Yoru break through Tanegashima’s defense?
Eliminated teams turned their attention to the two players.
Unlike Yoru, who had risen to fame just this year, Tanegashima had been a prodigy since his first year. By his second year, he took over as captain, leading Maizono to the national stage and earning nationwide acclaim.
Many called him the best defender in middle school tennis.
Yoru gripped his racket and stood.
A cool breeze rustled his jacket as he stepped onto the court, eliciting cheers from the girls in the stands—much to the envy of the male spectators.
Strolling to the net, Yoru glanced toward Maizono’s side, lips moving slightly.
Anyone close enough would’ve heard:
"More wind, please... so hot, so hot!"
...
"He’s here, huh?"
Tanegashima took a deep breath but didn’t step onto the court immediately. Instead, he warmed up on the sidelines.
Unlike Yoru—who rarely bothered with warm-ups—Tanegashima wasn’t reckless.
Warm-ups prevented injuries, improved blood flow, and mentally prepared players. Most importantly, they ensured peak performance.
But Yoru? Thanks to his system-granted perfect reflexes, he was always in top condition. Hence, his warm-up count so far: zero.
Ten minutes later...
Tanegashima exhaled.
"Here."
Inui handed him his racket. "We’re down 4-0."
The implication was clear: If possible, win at least one match. Don’t let Maizono lose too embarrassingly.
"I’ll do my best."
Tanegashima’s gaze settled calmly on Yoru as he finally stepped onto the court.
Without waiting for the umpire’s signal, the two shook hands across the net.
"Yoru-kun, I’ve been looking forward to this match," Tanegashima said, his usual playful grin absent, replaced by sheer determination. "After reviewing all your match records and Weekly Tennis’s analysis, how could I not be excited?"
Yoru’s documented matches were few, but every one ended in a shutout. His strength was undeniable.
Yoru’s eyes burned with intensity. "Tell me—has anyone ever broken through your defense?"
Under that piercing stare, Tanegashima answered seriously, "Not once. Not head-on."
"Is that so?" Yoru smirked. "Then I’ll be the first."
A crushing pressure instantly engulfed the court—
Haki.
Or, in Prince of Tennis terms, aura.
While not as exaggerated as One Piece’s Conqueror’s Haki or Bleach’s Reiatsu, top players in the PoT universe could project their fighting spirit as tangible pressure.
This concept was fully realized in New Prince of Tennis, where monsters like Volk, Byoudouin, and Duke emitted overwhelming auras.
There was even a scene where Volk’s mere gaze shattered an opponent’s will to compete.
FLOKITOTO
"This pressure—?!"
Tanegashima’s face paled. For a moment, breathing itself felt difficult.
"Come. Show me your strength."
Yoru turned and walked away, the oppressive aura dissipating as the crowd watched.
Reaching the baseline, he mused, "This world’s insane. If we weren’t playing tennis, it’d just be a superpower battleground."
Meanwhile, Tanegashima—now at his own baseline—assumed a defensive stance, heart still racing.
"The rumors about Yoru... they undersold him."
"BEEP BEEP—!
National Semifinals: Seigaku vs. Maizono Academy!
Singles 1: Yoru (Seigaku) to serve!"
With both players ready, the umpire signaled the start.
Yoru caught the ball tossed by the umpire.
No dribbling. Just a casual, sky-high toss—higher than normal—and a leap before it even peaked.
"A smash serve?"
Tanegashima leaned forward, ready to chase the rebound.
Such serves bounced high, demanding early returns.
THWACK—!
A single, sharp impact—when there should’ve been two (hit + bounce). The ball’s speed merged the sounds.
"Too fast!"
Tanegashima’s pupils contracted. Even with his sharp vision, he barely caught a blur.
Instinctively, he lunged wide, swinging at the ball just before its peak rebound.
"Whoa! That serve’s insane!" Mizuki gasped. "That’s the supersonic vertical serve Yoru learned recently, right? He’s matching QP’s speed—no, surpassing my Speed Serve!"
QP adjusted his glasses. "Yoru’s five stats and fundamentals outclass mine. With this technique, reaching my velocity was inevitable."
He wasn’t surprised—just impressed by Yoru’s monstrous talent.
Even among Germany’s elite, QP’s rapid-growth phase made him a physical outlier. Yet pre-growth Yoru already surpassed him.
What kind of monster will he become after his growth spurt?
"But forget the serve—that Tanegashima guy returned it? That’s terrifying!" Oishi stared in disbelief.
By the sound, Yoru’s serve matched QP’s Glowing Mode. Even Inui couldn’t react—yet Tanegashima did.
THWACK—!
Tanegashima’s return looked effortless.
"Enhanced Senses, huh?" Yoru narrowed his eyes.
[Enhanced Senses]: Superhuman reflexes. Neural transmission speeds multiples faster than normal. The longer the match, the sharper the senses.
Yoru wasn’t shocked. His stats only led Tanegashima’s by one tier.
With this innate talent + elite dynamic vision, returning his serve was plausible.
Tanegashima’s 11-star rating mostly came from his defensive mastery. Other techniques barely moved the needle past 10 stars.
THWACK!
Another strike—Yoru fired Speed of Wind, the return blistering fast.
Yet before the ball finished rebounding, Tanegashima was already there, racket intercepting.
Another return.
Yoru’s eyes gleamed.
"As expected of the ‘Ultimate Punching Bag’ of Prince of Tennis—keeping up with my speed? Perfect. Time to let loose!"
Chapter 144: Yoru – "Little Kunimitsu, your techniques are so handy~"
Instead of feeling discouraged by Shōji’s return, Yoru only grew more excited.
After his match with Ralph, he had been longing for an opponent who could keep up with him—but still couldn’t beat him.
An opponent like this meant he could enjoy the entire match while maintaining his cool demeanor.
Forget that nonsense about "evenly matched."
A comeback match might be slightly thrilling, but fighting tooth and nail the whole time? Exhausting.
Plus, he’d have to take off his jacket—ruining his image.
Opponents like Ralph and QP, who were strong but posed no real threat, were the real deal. Pure, uninterrupted fun.
Swish—!
Watching the ball fly toward him, Yoru smirked. "Then I won’t hold back."
With a swing of his racket, a thunderous boom echoed across the court, startling the spectators.
Full Five-Dimensional Stats Unleashed.
The sheer power behind his return sent tremors through his arm, leaving players from both schools’ benches wide-eyed.
Boom—!
With his senses heightened and his dynamic vision locked on, Shōji intercepted the ball with precision.
Using some unknown method, he made the ball hover on his racket’s surface, buying himself time to switch to a backhand strike.
But before he could unleash his power—
Ripples spread from the impact, and the ball visibly lost all momentum.
"Muga no Kyouchi – Hadōkyū no Kiwami!" (Annihilation of All Things!)
By analyzing the ball’s trajectory through his senses and vision, he transmitted the data to his wrist, allowing the ball to pause momentarily on his racket before altering its return path—effectively erasing its force.
"He’s already forced to use Hadōkyū no Kiwami from the start?!"
In the stands, Mori, who had come to watch, looked stunned.
Beside him, Hirakoba’s expression turned grave. "That only means one thing—Yoru’s return shot surpassed normal interception levels. Hadōkyū no Kiwami was necessary."
"Scary…" Mori gulped.
During his own match against Shōji, the latter had only revealed Hadōkyū no Kiwami at the very end—just to satisfy the crowd’s curiosity.
The level Mori had brought to the table wasn’t even worthy of the technique.
Yet here was Yoru, forcing it out with just his basic returns.
The gap between them…
Just thinking about it sent shivers down Mori’s spine.
Back when he’d watched Yoru’s matches on video, he’d foolishly believed he could fight him evenly.
How naive.
Boom—!
Boom—!
Boom—!
On the court, Yoru’s oppressive dominance was on full display.
Most spectators couldn’t even see the ball—only the deafening booms as it vanished mid-air.
Yet, against all odds, Shōji kept intercepting it.
Their rally lasted a full ten minutes.
And this was just the first point—neither had scored yet!
Maintaining such a prolonged exchange was no easy feat.
Both needed flawless fundamentals—otherwise, mistakes would pile up.
It was like trying to stay in peak adrenaline mode indefinitely.
Kawasaki muttered, "This is dragging on forever…"
Yamato frowned. "Why isn’t the captain using his Tezuka Zone? This isn’t like him—he usually ends points in a dozen exchanges."
"He can’t," QP calmly interjected.
"That guy has a neutralizing technique. By altering his return motions, he can strip any shot of its spin or power—turning it into a normal ball."
"…Seriously?!" Kaidō and the others fell silent.
They’d noticed Shōji’s odd returns earlier but never imagined it was a countermeasure.
Kiriya scowled. "So it’s a battle of stamina now?"
Hiss— The team collectively stiffened.
Had their captain really been pushed this far?
QP, however, rolled his eyes. "How little faith do you all have in Yoru?"
As if answering QP’s words—
On the court, Yoru suddenly murmured, "Warm-up’s over."
Shōji blinked.
Before he could react, Yoru sent a drop shot skimming over the net.
Tap-tap-tap—!
Shōji sprinted forward, but Yoru’s voice cut through:
"Don’t bother. You can’t return this one."
Can’t return it?
Shōji almost scoffed—there was no ball he couldn’t return.
But what happened next froze him in place, drawing gasps from the crowd.
The moment the ball touched down—
It rolled backward without bouncing.
"Zero-Shiki Drop Shot!"
"Tezuka’s Zero-Shiki!"
On TV, Sanada shot to his feet, eyes locked on the screen.
Yukimura’s voice was tight. "It is Zero-Shiki—but stronger."
He’d faced Tezuka’s version before.
Yoru’s descended faster—and instead of spinning in place, it rolled back instantly.
The same realization hit Tezuka.
Facing his teammates’ questioning looks, he said, "I’ve been sparring with Yoru-senpai often. Last night, too. Given his skill, his version would naturally surpass mine."
Ah.
That made sense. Everyone knew Yoru could copy techniques—then refine them beyond the original.
"Yoru scores! 15-0!"
The umpire sighed in relief. Even he was exhausted from tracking that rally.
Yamato suddenly paled. "If he copied Zero-Shiki Drop Shot… then does that mean—?"
Boom—!
Before he could finish, Yoru served.
The ball flew slower than usual.
Shōji barely had time to wonder why before—
It landed, rolled forward, and stopped dead at the net.
No bounce. No return possible.
"…How?"
Shōji’s racket hung limp in his hand, disbelief flooding his eyes.
The same effect as the drop shot—but as a serve?!
That was insane.
"Yoru scores! 30-0!"
Yoru smirked. "What’s your next move, Shōji?"
Chapter 145: The Supreme Domain – The Pinnacle of Spin Techniques
"There’s actually a technique like this…?"
In the Muga no Kyouchi team’s rest area, Irie was visibly shaken.
Even if he were the one on the court right now, there’d be nothing he could do against such a shot. He’d just have to watch helplessly as his opponent scored.
Beside him, Kajimoto muttered, "According to tennis rules, a serve must bounce before it can be returned… or even touched."
Boom—!
On the court, Yoru didn’t waste time.
He casually tossed up another Zero-Shiki Serve.
Thanks to the system’s feedback, his copied techniques weren’t just replicated—they were optimized. Even if Tezuka used the same move at the same level, Yoru’s version would be superior.
One small refinement? Reducing the ball’s ground contact time to near zero.
Just like the Twist Serve, where the spin’s lingering effect was minimized.
Swish—!
The ball landed with a whisper, barely spinning before rolling backward.
"I can’t just keep losing points like this!"
Shōji’s eyes sharpened. In a split-second decision, he pressed his racket against the ground and swiped at the ball.
But the edge of his racket only made the ball roll faster—it didn’t lift it.
"Yoru scores! 40-0!"
The umpire hesitated but called the point.
Murmurs erupted from the crowd.
"Wait… isn’t that a violation?"
Yoru frowned but didn’t argue.
In the original series, someone had managed to scoop up a Zero-Shiki Serve this way—and the umpire let it slide. It wasn’t until the World Cup stage that such lax rulings disappeared.
Sloppy officiating.
But arguing now was pointless.
Even if Shōji had lifted the ball, this kind of return would’ve just been an annoyance.
Shōji’s heart pounded.
He’d gambled—testing whether the umpire would let him bend the rules against a rule-bending serve.
And he’d won.
Boom—!
Yoru served again.
Shōji repeated his desperate swipe—
But this time, the racket’s edge bounced off the ball the moment it made contact. No lift.
"Yoru scores! Game, 1-0!"
Tch.
Shōji exhaled in frustration.
He’d cheated—and still failed.
Seigaku’s Rest Area
Kiriya scoffed. "That umpire’s turning a blind eye. Pathetic."
Yamato shrugged. "Every ref has their own standards. And let’s be honest—the Zero-Shiki Serve is terrifying. At least he didn’t actually return it."
A quiet voice cut in.
"Yoru-senpai has returned the Zero-Shiki Serve before."
Everyone turned to Tezuka.
What?
How was that possible?
Tezuka explained: During their practice match, after he’d served with Zero-Shiki, Yoru had sprinted to the landing spot and—
Stomped the ground the instant the ball touched down.
The vibration forced the ball to bounce slightly.
Zero-Shiki’s spin was fragile—its power relied on sticking to the ground. Any disruption could break its effect.
"Sounds simple."
Even Kiriya, not known for deep analysis, shook his head. "But timing that stomp exactly at impact, with just the right force? Way harder than it sounds."
QP blinked, surprised. Kiriya actually used his brain for once.
Exactly.
Theory and execution were worlds apart.
Yoru had pulled it off on his first try purely because his 10/10 Power stat brute-forced the physics.
Game 2 – Shōji’s Serve
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Shōji bounced the ball, preparing to serve—
Then Yoru’s voice cut through the tension.
"Shōji, you’re neutralizing all my returns to counter my Domain and Reverse Domain, aren’t you?"
The tactic wasn’t a secret.
By stripping every shot of its spin, Shōji wasn’t just handling Yoru’s power—he was preempting the techniques that had dominated so many matches.
Shōji didn’t answer.
He served—a blistering 200 km/h+ shot, though it was far from unreturnable.
Yoru intercepted it effortlessly, continuing mid-rally:
"So, Shōji… what’s your next move?"
Huh?
Shōji’s instincts flared.
Yoru hadn’t spoken for ten minutes—then suddenly dropped two new techniques.
Now he was talking again.
Danger.
"Wait—this spin—?!"
Shōji’s pupils contracted.
His sharp dynamic vision caught something impossible—a chaotic, layered rotation he’d never seen before.
The ball was too fast to analyze.
At that moment, QP’s voice rang out from Seigaku’s bench—
"Tezuka. Watch this shot closely. It’s the final evolution of the Domain."
Tezuka’s breath hitched.
His eyes locked onto Yoru.
Boom—!
Shōji returned the ball—but his usual composure was shattered.
His expression? Sheer disbelief.
Yoru’s voice was ice.
"So you chose to neutralize one of the spins."
The instant the ball crossed the net—
A whirlwind erupted around Yoru, swirling like a miniature tornado.
The ball veered violently—then landed out of bounds.
"Yoru scores! 15-0!"
"H-How is this possible?!"
The one shouting wasn’t Shōji—it was Irie.
His glasses nearly slid off as his hands trembled.
He knew how overpowered Hadōkyū no Kiwami was.
Shōji had tested it against countless players—even graduated seniors from the previous generation.
No one had ever broken through it.
Until now.
The rest of the Muga no Kyouchi team was equally stunned.
Shōji’s voice was low. "This… shouldn’t be possible."
Yoru smirked. "Nothing’s impossible."
Truthfully, he’d just been testing a theory.
In the original series, fans had debated endlessly:
Could Shōji’s Hadōkyū no Kiwami neutralize the Supreme Domain’s spin?
Normally, the question wouldn’t even arise—
But the Supreme Domain had shattered Yukimura’s "Mirage Mirror", forced opponents into no-win choices, and even Borg admitted he couldn’t escape its control.
Its reputation was untouchable—the ultimate spin technique in New Prince of Tennis.
And now, the answer was clear:
Shōji’s current Hadōkyū no Kiwami could only neutralize one layer of spin.
Not both.
At least, not yet.
Yoru’s grin widened.
"Then I’ll help myself~"
